Accepting
by Chicho1
Summary: [Completed] Accepting can be the hardest thing one could ever be forced to do... AxH, SLASH OF COURSE. AUish endings.
1. Accepting Part One

_**Accepting**_

_Chapter One_

Hephaestion gasped in a deep breath, shivering uncontrollably on the lavish bed that reeked of sickness. He hadn't moved from the fine, silken sheets for the past three days. And the immobility was surely killing him faster than the disease. But worst still was the ill smell that clung to his every fiber. Not only was he to die bedridden, but also he was to be constantly reminded of it from the smell that assaulted his senses and the uncontrollable muscle spasms.

He was fevered and nothing could quench his parched throat anymore. Nothing could comfort his aching, withering body, put his restless mind to ease. He would have laughed bitterly at the cowardly way he was to die if it were not for the increased burning fire that coursed throughout his belly.

The only thing, the only _person_ that kept him alive anymore, that made him still hope was Alexander. His Alexander. Sweet Alexander, who was always kind and forthcoming if ever Hephaestion called for him. But even then Hephaestion could not stand Alexander's kindness that almost reeked of charity in his fevered state. But though Hephaestion hated accepting his coward's death, he knew Alexander could not accept the mere fact that he was dying. Alexander did not care how, he only mourned that it was so. He mourned that they would not have the chance to grow old together, to watch their children play with one another, that they would not be able to make love like they were meant to.

And so Hephaestion stayed himself for what he must do. He had to help Alexander, no matter the pain or fever. Even when Hephaestion could not accept it himself, he had to try for Alexander's sake.

Hephaestion hitched in breath for a moment before a shaking coughing rattled his weakening body. As his body shook with small spasms Hephaestion could finally hear Alexander's strong, loud stride approaching his chambers. He closed his eyes and titled his aching, sweat drenched head back into the soft pillows, waiting.

The footsteps slowed and then finally stopped at what Hephaestion could only suspect as the end of his extravagantly large bed. Alexander's engulfing presence made Hephaestion quiver from more than just fever and muscle spasms for the first time in days. "I look a fright, I know," he gasped out quietly, smiling as far as his chapped lips would allow.

A rustling sounded and then Alexander's cool hands were on him, holding him tightly and then brushing his sweat dampened hair back from his face. He opened his puffy red eyes and gazed at Alexander's beautiful, healthy face. He envied Alexander's vivaciousness now, envied him for his life, but Hephaestion wouldn't have traded places with Alexander for a moment. He loved Alexander too much to wish any ill will on him, even as he was soon to die.

Alexander smiled softly, his eyes tearing as he looked upon the face of his beloved. "No, you are terribly wrong young soldier! You are the most beautiful body in all of my empire, and will surely be so amongst…the gods as well." Alexander looked down at Hephaestion's chest, clutching the sick man's hands tightly within his grasp.

Hephaestion gently pulled his left hand away and placed it lightly on Alexander's fair hair, curling his fingers between the wavy, golden locks. "Ah, but you flatter me, my fierce lion. You should not tell a dying fool such lies… It makes his head grow when it aught not." Alexander's head rose quickly and he stared at Hephaestion with such force that the brunette caught his breath just before breaking into another fit of hackling.

Alexander raised Hephaestion up on the bed a little and rubbed his back soothingly as the coughing fit passed. When Hephaestion had calmed down and settled back against Alexander's chest Alexander caught his shaking hand and stroked his thumb over the clammy skin. "I would not lie to you, Hephaestion. I will not and have not. Ever." Hephaestion smiled as his blue eyes that had begun to sting closed once again.

"No… You would never do that would you?" Hephaestion said softly, his breathes coming quicker with each passing moment. Alexander's hold on his hand tightened as he went into another convulsion.

"Zeus, be damned, Hephaestion! I cannot lose you! Ah, you… Not _you_…" Alexander whispered harshly into his ear holding him tightly against his body. Hephaestion tilted his head back and leaned into Alexander, kissing his cheek as he gasped in harsh breathes.

"No…but…you must live…Xander. Live. And…when the gods…see fit to…to have you…I…I will be…waiting…for…for you." Alexander clenched his eyes shut and tears escaped out from beneath his eyelids, falling down his pale cheeks.

"Yes, my love… I will live for you. And when I become a god I will see you in Olympus! And I will have my soul back when we are united again, Phai… You are my _soul_… For a man can live without his soul for a time…but then he must be one again… You complete me…you complete me. My Patroclus…"

Hephaestion gasped softly as a small tear trekked down his roughly bristled cheek, and on his last breath, believing, trusting, and loving Alexander still to the very end whispered thus, "Of course, of course, my…Alexander…my…Achilles…"


	2. Accepting Part Two

**Author's Note:** Thank you all for reviewing and sorry for the long wait! I saw the movie _Alexander_ three times and every time I couldn't believe how Hephaestion died! I don't actually _know_ if those events portrayed in the movie were right, but I thought that probably know one really knows what happened once those doors closed behind Alexander… So I took the liberty to write down how I thought Hephaestion's death might have happened. Of course this is all purely fictional and yes, I do know that I'm probably wrong and someone out there figured out what happened in Heph's last moments, but what the hell. I like my ending better. Well, here is chapter two, only one more to go.

_**Accepting**_

_Chapter Two_

Alexander stared up at the ceiling with his red-rimmed, sightless eyes. He couldn't remember when he had gone blind, but he knew it was when he had first become truly ill. He could hardly breathe and his spit dribbled down his chin unbecomingly. He would have wiped it away with his hand if only he could move that much without hurting so desperately.

His dry, clammy fingers lay on top of his chest, one hand over the other. He still had the ring Hephaestion had given him so long ago. He felt its smooth surface and could still see the dark stone glimmering from the slowly setting sun, showing its true glory. But Alexander felt that in Hephaestion's death the stone had lost some of its luster. It just didn't shine as beautifully without having the presence of the blue-eyed man around to complement its' meaning. The sun was a blazing star in the sky and gave life to all, but it was nothing without its' other half, its' moon. For the sun shone with all its might, but it was just another star among millions even though it might be the brightest of all. No, without the moon by its' side the sun wouldn't hold any importance at all; it would just be another nameless star in a sea of countless galaxies.

Alexander closed his heavy eyelids. He coughed harshly for a moment, sending a stabbing pain throughout his head and side. His breaths came quicker as his brow furrowed in pain. The burning ache in his body had gotten worse over the past few days. He knew his time had come, but he could only smile slightly with his chapped lips, as painful as it was to do so now. He would soon be with Hephaestion… That was what kept him from being scared. The knowledge that he would finally be whole again, would finally be able to be with his love again, put his anxious heart at ease.

He would miss the birth of his son, he knew. But he also knew that Roxanne would take care of the boy and that he would be all right. Roxanne was a strong woman and he realized that she would fight to the very end to protect their progeny. It bothered him greatly though to never know him. He had fallen in lust with Roxanne and had taken his fill after a time, but he still loved his unborn son deeply if not his wife.

He quaked harshly with another deep coughing fit, remembering when Hephaestion had convulsed with hackling coughs in his last days. The moment though, when he was almost able to finally sleep, to finally be rid of all the questions and images of his lover's last moments in his head, Ptolemy said the same thing he had for the past hour. Alexander was beginning to think it was the only thing he could say anymore. But that's all that anyone ever cared about any longer… Who would take over in his place?

Alexander hated the question more than anything now. His generals were fighting over his body already and he wasn't even dead in the wind yet. He couldn't believe, didn't _want_ to believe how his men could betray him in his last moments just so. But he assumed when it came to men, land, greed, and power it was always an excellent idea to be on top of all four. Men wanted to be rich and powerful and nothing could quench their thirst for it. So he decided he could forgive them if only for that fact. He too could understand the beautiful siren's song of power and riches, but he had always had Hephaestion to bring his head back down to earth sans the last few agonizing months without him. But that would all be changing soon enough. He would be with Hephaestion in due time.

He felt small, cool tears start to escape below his eyelids. He desperately wanted to die as soon as he could. Alexander knew it was an incredibly weak thought to want to die in such a state. He could only imagine how it was for Hephaestion to slowly waste away in his bedchambers after the other man had died. Now Alexander's own fate was to become emaciated without being able to even protest it. He could hardly speak anymore because of his swollen esophagus. He thought that he would have died because of the limited amount of air getting to his lungs, but obviously the gods had other plans for him. They would keep him away from Hephaestion another day, another night, just like they had the past few months before.

It was getting colder though and the foggy light in his peripheral vision was starting to fade for the first time since he lost his sight. He wanted to smile in desperate hope that it would all be over soon enough, but stilled himself. He knew that wishing for things got a body nowhere fast. So Alexander waited, breathing in short, gasping breathes accompanied by the occasional spittle.

He didn't seem to hear anything anymore as the minutes passed him by unnoticed. He didn't have much use for time anymore; it didn't matter to be able to know if it were sundown or sunrise, mention of both proceedings only brought depression. He couldn't see the glorious events any longer so he rationalized that he need not be told when they happened. He was content to stay in a blissful night until his end came. Reminders of anything were always hard for him to accept. But Alexander supposed accepting would always be the hardest thing any one person could do, no matter the situation that called for it.

He felt a cool touch on his arm. The lengthy fingers traveled down and to the ring that was snug around his ring finger. Alexander panicked as he felt the ring being removed and grasped onto the bejeweled metal as tightly as he possibly could. He didn't know what was happening around him, but he knew he couldn't lose his ring. It would guide him to Hephaestion in his death. The precious metal meant the world to him and was his only remaining connection to his other half.

Alexander felt the tears well up and spill down his checks, retracing the already dried tear paths. He tried to shake his head, but the pain of the movement stopped him so quickly that he couldn't breath. In his struggle for the precious, invaluable air the ring was pulled off and his arm was placed at his side. He felt liquid fill in his lungs and he gurgled with his shallow gasps until he was cast into a dark, inevitable limbo.


	3. Accepting Part Three

_**Accepting **_

_Chapter Three_

Alexander awoke to a soft pastel of blue lighting. He sat up in a slight daze and looked around at his surroundings. It seemed as if he were at sea and the fog had just rolled in for the morning dawn. The sweet scent of the mist burned at his nostrils and wafted around him in a gentle breeze. He could almost hear the light sound of crashing waves beyond the cover of mist, as though they were smothered in a blanket of cloud.

Alexander stood at the sound of softly padding feet coming in his direction. He squinted, but couldn't manage to spy anything past the cloud cover. And then he heard the comforting hum of singing drift into the wind, heard the voice that his soul could never forget, no matter what time, place, or afterlife he ever found himself in. He listened as the lonely, sad song became louder and more contented with the singer's approach and smiled slowly has the haze lifted, admitting the smiling blue-eyed warrior. Alexander breathed deeply as he closed his eyes and a powerful burst of rain filled breeze and light washed over him, a warm embrace guiding his path back towards the salty sand and dark contentment.

* * *

The bright, sickeningly fluorescent lighting of the subway car shown over Alistair's short golden curls like spun honey. The day was to be warm and bright, not at all like it had been the past few months and showed a good promise for the future spring. The city was alive, even at the deathly early hour that it was. People drove or walked home from clubs, smoked on the sidewalks, screamed out of their windows. New York City seemed the place of action in the shadow of early dawn, inviting anyone to join in on the adventure, never fully asleep. 

Alistair yawned hugely as he shifted in his seat and wrapped the thick, goose down ski coat around him tighter. The subway car didn't have heating and Alistair highly doubted that the station manager even cared. However, he could only guess the obscenities that were flooding every person's mind on the car because it was too fucking cold to be taking the subway that day. His warm hazel, corn yellow eyes took in the activity that swarmed around him. An exhausted looking woman held her two children tightly to her as they squirmed and tried the slip from under her arms. Her mocha skin telling him she was probably going to achieve skin cancer later in her life if the color weren't her natural tone. Alistair sighed regretfully. No one wore sun block like they were supposed to. It was a forgotten piece of advice that doctors like him gave all the time. It was almost as if they were all mothers and their children never listened to their warnings to "keep away from the cookie jar because it'll spoil their dinner." But he supposed that after the first chemo treatment it would open their eyes as to how important protecting their skin really was. Of course, many individuals never contracted skin cancer, but that didn't mean the sun didn't have any damaging effects on frail skin. It left dark rings under people's eyes or dark splotches all across their skin in later years, and made a person look fifteen years older than they usually were because of the wear and tear the skin had been through. _Such lovely skin, wasted away, and for what? A lousy tan for one summer to impresses some dickhead that'll dump her as soon as he hears about the kids and gets a piece of her ass… Such a shame. _

Alistair looked away from the woman and her rowdy children and took comfort in the knowledge that at least some people heeded the sensible warnings that doctors such as he gave. But it was still just too damn early in the morning to think anymore. He just wanted to crawl back into his big, soft bed and curl up behind his fiancée, Bridget. She was usually agreeable enough to sleep next to, but that was all he could really ask for in a woman he hardly ever saw anymore and who still hadn't been able to marry them off since he had proposed. But that was his work and she had long since understood that he was a doctor first and then her boyfriend. She at least understood more so than any other past ex-girlfriend he had had.

Alistair sighed. Thinking about Bridget was the wrong thing to do, he realized. Now he was tense and wary, thinking of the argument he would have to shout his way out of when he returned home to sleep for a few fleeting hours during the morning. For however much Bridget understood his work and his priorities she still bitched as if a fox were invading her hen's nest. And to be under that kind of scrutiny at such an ungodly hour of the day was a miserable thought. _Grin and bear it, just grin and bear it. Fucking women. _

The train pulled to a jolting stop and Alistair gathered himself up, shuffling through the tangle of bodies trying to get off and onto the car. When he was finally able to squeeze himself through the small opening of people a huge sewer rat scurried across his foot and under a dozen other people's. "Oh, my _god_! What the _fuck_! Fucking, goddamned… What the **_fuck_**!" Alistair flailed wildly with his briefcase, pushing into people and hitting others as he tried vainly to get as far away from the vicinity of where the rat had gone. Alistair didn't _care _that the little beasts where known and worshiped as gods in other countries; the fact of it was that the miniature demons weren't here and if Alistair could manage it, he'd kill as many of the little devils he could on sight, or run away in a horribly embarrassing manner of which he was currently trying to do. "Did you _see_ that? A fucking… _Huge_! **_Huge_**…" Alistair shook his head and frantically tiptoed his way across the platform of goggle-eyed onlookers, and straight into a very flabbergasted person's chest.

Alistair looked upwards and was instantly stunned speechless by bright blue eyes framed by long dark lashes, and a striking pang of recognition. Alistair shook himself, realizing that he had been staring at the poor man, not to mention pressed indecently close to the stranger's very fine structured chest. Alistair deduced that the man must work out daily to be in such good shape and form. Chuckling, Alistair stepped back from the confused looking brunette, patting down the man's chest and arms, straightening out his already straight dress shirt and dark wool coat. "So, how about that Nix game the other night? Good?" At the brunette's silence, Alistair nodded his head and stepped to the side, "Good!"

But before the blonde could take more than a few steps in the direction of the stairs leading to the surface station, the brunette had a hold on his arm, putting a stop to his getaway plan. "Hey!" Alistair turned around to face the tall man, readying himself for the harsh lecture to "watch where he was going." But the brunette only stuck out his hand and, Alistair had to admit, flashed one the most dazzling and beautiful smiles he had ever had the pleasure of seeing.

Alistair stared at the straight row of teeth for a moment before blinking and shaking the other man's hand, dumbstruck by the kindness in the gesture. This was New York City, not Pleasantville. The brunette laughed a bit scratching at his head of short wavy hair, and grabbing Alistair's hand in a firm grip, "My name's Theron… Are you alright?" The blonde blinked rapidly, looking down at Theron's hand clutching his and then around at the very nearly empty train platform. "I saw you freaking out back there. Rat, right?"

Alistair's eyebrows rose in question before realization dawned on him like a slap to the face. "_Oh_! Oh, yes. Yes, a _huge_ little monster! That devil creature could have taken my _head _off! Did you see that?" The blonde looked around, motioning with his arms and sizing the creature up from point A (his right hand) to point B (his left hand). Theron laughed at the other man's disgruntled disposition, liking the sudden flush to the blonde's cheeks and excited gleam to his eyes. "It was _this_ big! I would have killed it, but those demons are fast! Did you see how the foam was lathering at its mouth? I swear it was going to eat me, I could see it in its **_eyes_**…" At the emphasized hiss of "eyes" Alistair's own squinted and he pointed to his right one.

Theron only grinned at the hysterical display of behavior. He had never met anyone quite like the blonde before and in some odd way it soothed him. It made him feel as though he had finally arrived at some place, at some point in time that he had always sought for but had never been able to find until the very moment he had laid eyes on the small blonde coming out of the train car. Taking the other man's waving arm, Theron started to escort the blonde up the platform stairs, nodding encouragingly.

Alistair stopped, his voice dying as he looked into Theron's eyes and smiled. "My name is Alistair, by-the-way." The blonde suddenly looked down and then to the side, considering his words before he spoke, "Theron… Have…we met before?" He chuckled and shook his head, rolling his eyes as he sighed. "I'm sorry, I know it sounds ridiculous considering I really don't believe we've _ever_ met, and the fact that I most _certainly_ would have remembered a face as handsome as yours…" Alistair's eyes widened, his babbling coming to a tailing hiss only to start off again with renewed zest filled with fervor apologies, when the other man sealed his mouth shut with a press of firm lips against his.

Alistair's eyelids slowly dropped closed and he leaned into the kiss as Theron's arms came up to frame his face and then travel back through his curly blonde hair. As they finally broke apart for air Alistair gripped the fabric of Theron's wool coat and breathed out a breathy sigh. The brunette rested his forehead against Alistair's and chuckled. "I don't know why, but I have a feeling I know you _very_ well, Alistair."

The blonde opened his eyes and grinned sheepishly, "Yeah…but what am I going to tell my ex-girlfriend now?"

_**Author's Note: **Sequel anyone? Just give me a shout out!_


End file.
